


We are all made of stars

by northcountry



Category: Queen of the South (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), I blame King George for this, Light Angst, Pote is a droid, Team Teresa, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Yes I did a Star Wars AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-13 04:31:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18933448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/northcountry/pseuds/northcountry
Summary: "Come with me," she says as they face off in the hangar bay. One foot on the ramp of her getaway ship and one hand on the blaster at her hip, the other hand extended in an offer that she knows he can't accept. Not now, not like this. He's still too tangled up in it all, ensnared by those thorny questions of loyalty that keep him rooted to the ground. His hand twitches at his side. Her body tenses for flight.A QOTS Star Wars AU (because someone had to do it)





	We are all made of stars

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a tumblr prompt that took on a life of its own (Thanks, anon! Sorry it took so long.) King George's many Star Wars references throughout the show were too tempting to resist, so here is my attempt at crafting a QOTS story set in that universe. Big thanks to my gals Fen and Noelle for all the support, encouragement, and prequel memes.

"Come with me," she says as they face off in the hangar bay. One foot on the ramp of her getaway ship and one hand on the blaster at her hip, the other hand extended in an offer that she knows he can't accept. Not now, not like this. He's still too tangled up in it all, ensnared by those thorny questions of loyalty that keep him rooted to the ground. His hand twitches at his side. Her body tenses for flight. 

"Teresa…"

His voice cracks with all the things he can't say, and she feels waves of pain and frustration buffeting against her mind. But she holds fast.

"Take care of yourself," she whispers before ducking up the ramp and out of sight, dark curls whipping around her shoulders and tendrils of regret chasing after her.

As her ship blasts off into space, Teresa reaches for that link between them one last time. She’s suddenly standing beside him, watching as his eyes track the blue glow of her engines until it's nothing more than a faint watery smudge against the great black expanse of space. He turns and looks at her. She breaks the connection. 

 

*****

 

_"Find her."_

Camila's voice is cool and deadly, her red-taloned fingers drumming on the table like a promise. A promise of vengeance, and James the instrument of her justice. "You will hunt down that _puta_ to the farthest reaches of the galaxy. She can't run forever, and when we find her, she will pay for her betrayal."

James leans his head against the window of the ship and thinks of a girl with starlight in her eyes. 

 

*****

 

Teresa Mendoza has been many different people. The terrified child whose parents perished in the spice mines. The stone-faced orphan girl shipped off to the struggling agricultural settlements on Tatooine. The young woman left behind in a desolate wasteland with only her wits and intelligence to keep her safe. Scraping out a living for herself in whatever ways she could as her days ran into weeks and those weeks ran into years, her life as colourless and bleak as the desert she called home. She watched the twin suns rise and set and wondered if this was all there was.

At night she would see herself in her dreams, clad in an elegant white dress with flowing sleeves and a belt of silver links. 

"One day you'll be free of this place," this regal version of herself would promise. "You have to believe it."

But that day never seemed to come, and Teresa found herself sinking deeper into resignation and despair. 

"Go away," she whispered at the Queen when she appeared again, leaning casually against the wall of her hut. "I don't need you and your lies."

The Queen sighed. This time she was wearing a snow-white flying suit, her glossy hair tightly pinned back, accentuating the sharp lines of her face. "I didn't say it would be easy. Or soon. You need to be strong."

Teresa stubbornly buried her face in her pillow, refusing to trust in a hope.

Until one day, along came a white knight on a dune buggy with his halo of golden hair and brilliant smile, and she gave her heart to him, falling into his orbit like a planet around the sun. What did it matter that he was a smuggler? It only heightened her desire, her fingers trailing over the gleaming barrel of his blaster. 

_Teach me to use this._ The days he'd come home flush with cash and buzzing with adrenaline, pulling her down on to the bed and promising her the world. She thrilled at his stories of near-death adventures and their larger-than-life characters. Foolish to think it would last.

_Who was that woman? Where did she go? How did she become this hard-faced she-wolf with a black leather jacket and death in her eyes? And ghosts walking at her shoulder?_

There's a book buried out there in the desert, wrapped in leather, seventy paces north of the cairn marking the edge of the wasteland. Her insurance policy.

(His bones are out there, too, in the sands somewhere, bleached white by the sun. Ah, Guero, if he’d only been just a little smarter, faster.)

When the bounty hunters came to their home, she ran, ran with nothing but the clothes on her back and a few hundred credits to her name. Ran until she couldn't run anymore, finally dragging her aching body into the shelter of a shallow rock cave, too tired to care if she was discovered by Sand People or worse. When she woke up, it was to the cool metal of a blaster pointed straight at her forehead. 

Which is how she ended up in the clutches of Camila Vargas, one of the system's most powerful narco-spice dealers. She was glittering and deadly as a sand scorpion with her swirling black cloak and ropes of diamonds, her mouth a blood-red gash in a cruel face. "You belong to me now, Teresa," Camila hissed, and Teresa felt the icy fingers of fear snaking down her spine. 

The metal hull of the ship felt like a prison, and it was, really. No papers, no money, and nowhere to go. Only the emptiness of space outside, the steady thrum of the engine and the heavy smell of fuel in the back of her throat. As Camila slithered through the star systems in her sleek cruiser, doing business on planet after planet, moon after moon, there was nothing for Teresa to do but to make the best of her new life. 

And she became adept at it, moving over time from prisoner to partner. Years spent straddling the line, selling to the highest bidder, Rebel or Imperial, it made no difference as long as it lined their pockets with credits. The drug trade does not discriminate, and there are plenty of buyers to be found on both sides of this galactic conflict. War makes people like them rich, though it leaves her with a queasy feeling in her gut. 

And then there was _him_. But she shies away from those memories, burying them deep inside. _Don't look back_. The dark tendrils of the past pull at her like a black hole, filled with sorrow and emptiness and _James._

 

*****

 

Returning to Tatooine is like opening an old wound that has never quite healed properly. Her ghosts linger just out of reach, shadows at the corner of her eye, but she squares her shoulders and focuses on what needs to be done. P-0TE, her loyal droid companion, creaks along behind her, muttering mutinously about the probability of them ending up dead or worse. 

They steal a speeder and makes for the port of Mos Eisley. There's only one man she can think of who's crazy enough to pull off a stunt like the one she has in mind, and luckily, she knows exactly where to find him. 

"This is a bad idea," grumbles P-0TE as they make their way to the seedier part of town, flitting from shadow to shadow. Teresa ignores him until they reach their destination. "Wait here," she says, slipping inside before he can protest. 

It's not every day you see a woman walk alone into the cantina. The bar is known for its strong brew and unsavoury customers, so Teresa turns more than one head as the door clicks shut behind her. She sidles up to the counter, all close-lipped smiles and false confidence, hand never straying far from the blaster at her hip. Orders a drink ( _top shelf, don't finish the glass_ ). Its raw aftertaste leaves her gasping, but it sends a flood of bravado into her system. _Time to be brazen, bold. You can do this._

The man holding court in the corner is not at all what she expected. Gold pants, oversized sunglasses glittering with precious stones, and a generous belly that shakes the table when he laughs. He's playing cards with some fierce-looking wookies while a gang of armed guards keep vigil. One of them puts out a hand to stop Teresa. 

"I'm looking for George Megalos." She's met with an impassive stare. "King George?" A flash of white teeth and the metaphorical curtain is drawn back as she's ushered into his presence.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here, boys? Another honey lookin' to take a ride on the Royal Express?"

He makes some crude gestures and his men chortle appreciatively. One of the wookies howls in what she hopes is amusement. 

"My name is Teresa Mendoza, and I have business to discuss."

He leers suggestively, his bejeweled sunglasses shimmering under the neon lights. "You hear that, boys? She's got business to discuss."

Teresa crosses her arms defensively. "Not that kind of business." 

George collapses back into his chair with a theatrical groan. "Goddamn it cupcake, gettin' a man's hopes up like that! What's your poison then? Dreamdust? Glitterstim? Rankweed? Or I've got some primo quality deathsticks if you're headin' to that rave in the desert later. It'll make you feel alive, certain sure."

"I don't need deathsticks. I need a ship."

Groaning again, George pushes his sunglasses up on the top of his head, rubbing his eyes, which are an intelligent shade of blue that belies his crude manner. "Girl, you've come to the wrong place. You look like trouble, and I've got more than my fair share what with this goddamn nuisance of a war makin' life difficult. Now git you gone - this is no place for a lady. Offer still stands on those deathsticks, though." 

"I'm no lady." Her eyes flick to the playing cards strewn across the table. "One game. One game, and if I win, you'll listen to my proposition."

Defiant and a little desperate. But there's a glint in George's eyes that betrays his interest. 

"Damn, sugarplum, there's not many that'll throw down the gauntlet like that. You've got balls, I'll give you that. So I'll bite. You beat me, I'm all ears. But no guarantees that you'll like what I have to say in return, you hear?"

George waves away the wookies, who give some requisite yowls of annoyance before heading to the bar. Teresa slips into the seat across from him, anticipation singing in her veins. She's always had a way with numbers, patterns speaking to her with crystal clarity, reassuring in their reliability. There's poetry and reason and logic, all in one beautiful package. (And she's been schooling grown men at card games since she was a twelve, when her winnings made all the difference between a full belly and going hungry.)

They attract a sizeable crowd as they throw down hand after hand. As she smugly gathers in her tokens, she's pleased to see a thin sheen of sweat on George's brow. The crowd murmurs in excitement, and she can see money changing hands with whispered bets. But there's a lot more riding on this than a game of poker. 

So when she calls his final bluff and sees the grudging respect in his eyes, she closes her own briefly in relief. She's past the first hurdle, but now comes the hard part. 

George shoos away the spectators and beckons her to follow him into a more secluded part of the bar. He pulls a bottle of vibrant green liquid down from a shelf and pours her a glass. It tastes like summer - melons and flowers with a hint of sour apple - and makes her teeth tingle.

"Well, a pirate never goes back on his word. I'm all ears, princess."

So she tells him. A story about a book buried in the desert with a key to unlocking the source of one of the galaxy's most elusive spice suppliers. A planet in the outer rim where there's a fortune to be made. Her ticket out of the life and he can cut a handsome profit, too.

"Come on, girly girl. You went to all this trouble just to pull my leg?"

"I'm serious. I know where to find El Santo." 

Something in her eyes must show that she's not messing around, and George whistles through his teeth, leaning back into the plush velvet of his lounge chair. 

"Well fuck me sideways. I'd love to know how you came across that morsel of intelligence. But why come to me?"

"You have a ship. I need a smuggler. We share the profits. It's good business sense."

"Now look here, sister, I ain't exactly hurtin' for cash here, and I've got myself a nice, comfy life. Why would I want to go riskin' my neck on some fool mission like this?"

"Because I've heard stories about you. You thrive on danger and excitement. Or were they lying when they told me you disappeared from under the noses of an entire Imperial battalion with a cargo of assassin droids? Or when you allegedly flew through an asteroid field to get away from bounty hunters after your head? Maybe they were talking about some other George Megalos."

Teresa stands up, brushing off her pants and turning to leave. "From the way they talk about you where I come from, I never thought you'd turn down an offer like this. Fearless, they say. Braver than anyone. Guess I was wrong. Sorry for wasting your time."

"Now hold yer horses, little lady." Teresa smiles to herself. People can be so predictable. "I hadn't gone and said no just yet. What are you proposing, and what's the take?"

And so this is how she finds herself strapped into the co-pilot seat of a derelict rust-bucket of a ship, holding onto the armrests for dear life as the engines hum to life. 

George lets out a whoop, ignoring what looks to be a cloud of smoke coming from one of the panels. 

"If you're as rich as you say, why don't you get a better ship?"

George eyes her reproachfully. "Now don't you go insultin' my best gal here. She's got character, and she's got me out of more than one scrape. Plus it makes it real easy to fly under the radar."

An ominous scraping sound comes from belowdecks. "Come on, baby girl, don't let daddy down now."

P-0TE raises one of his metallic arms in a mournful salute. "We who are about to die…"

 

*****

 

Their first stop is to retrieve Guero's book and the secrets he died for. She leads them to the spot, carefully counting out her paces, and drives the shovel into the sand until they have their prize. 

And later that night, camping under the stars in the vast emptiness of the waste, Teresa traces her fingers over the familiar handwriting with a pang. Columns of numbers and symbols dance before her eyes, spelling out a map, giving shape to something that had only ever been spoken about in reverent whispers. 

El Santo. A mysterious figure bordering on the mythological, shrouded in mystery and purveyor of the finest quality product on the market. If you knew where to find him. And if you could earn his favour - many sought his business and few returned to speak of it. But Teresa is never one to back down from a challenge, and the risk is well worth the reward. 

As the stars pulse overhead, she plots a journey in her mind to somewhere far, far away, somewhere Camila Vargas and her people would never find her. She imagines a better way of doing business, a way that doesn’t leave a trail of dead bodies and a sickness in her soul.

The Queen appears at the entrance to her tent, back in the flowing white robes with a gold circlet around her neck. Her gaze is calm and steady. "You will find a better way. Let your heart guide you, and trust in the power inside you." 

But the heart is a tricky thing. Let your guard down and it can spell your end. His words come back to her, unbidden.

_That thing you're trying to keep alive inside you? That's what's going to get you killed._

Of course once her mind has set off down that track, she can’t stop the thoughts that come flooding in like the tide. So she finally relents, allowing herself to feel. _James._

At the start, he'd been indistinguishable from any of Camila's other goons, chain-smoking assholes with too much swagger and no compassion. Bragging about their skill with a blaster or the girls they were going to fuck when they next had shore leave. But for whatever reason, James had taken an interest, teaching her where he could and keeping some of the more handsy crew members away from her. 

He was still an asshole, but that initial hostility and suspicion had gradually morphed into a grudging respect. What followed was an uneasy alliance of sorts, bordering on friendship but not quite. With shades of something else, always leaving her with more questions than answers. She caught him watching her sometimes, his eyes flicking away as soon as their gazes met. 

And the more time they spent together, the more her senses felt attuned to his presence, the subtle shift in the air when he entered a room. A hyper-awareness of his moods, his feelings, and it made her skin feel raw and itchy. 

This couldn’t be normal, these feelings that effortlessly flowed between them, this sense of him in her mind that grew stronger every day. The way they moved in sync as if able to predict each other's actions and anticipate each other's thoughts. It was impossible to explain and yet so easy to accept.

She felt a sense of calm and security around him, lapping at the edges of her consciousness like warm water. A feather-light touch at the edge of her mind - never intrusive, more tentative questioning. As if not quite understanding this connection between them but wanting to lean into it. 

And as time went on, Teresa found it harder and harder to control that sudden pulse of attraction swirling between them when he stood next to her in the close confines of the engine room. Or the surge of affection when he remembered how much she loved sweets and brought her back a bag when he went planet-side. The impulse to protect and defend him in kind when he stuck his neck out for her.

Then came the day when they'd been cornered in a dead-end alleyway with stormtroopers hot on their heels. He'd cupped her face with his hands, rough and calloused from years of fighting, and looked at her, really looked at her, like it was the last time and there was nothing to hide. 

She'd felt a desperate surge of _something_ (if she'd allowed herself to give it a name, it would have felt suspiciously like… _no, don’t you dare go there_ ). He'd kissed her once, hard, before boosting her up onto the roof above and running off into a storm of blaster-fire. A final burst of emotion laced with determination and a bit of fear, and then he was gone.

In the end, they'd somehow managed to both make it out alive that day, and they'd never spoken of that moment where he'd pressed her up against the sun-warmed brick wall and crossed that line they'd been straddling for so long. There was too much at stake, too much to lose. 

Despite the risk, though, she’d still felt drawn towards that possibility of a nebulous _something_. Something she was hovering on the precipice of being ready to acknowledge or explore. But when Teresa had caught wind of Camila's plans to frame her for a lost shipment owing to Jabba the Hutt, she'd known that it was time to go. And he'd chosen to stay behind. 

The thread between them is now frayed and worn, but she still feels his shadow now and again, flickering just out of sight. She wonders what he's doing now and whether he's thinking of her. 

 

*****

 

They head back into Mos Eisley for supplies, and the crowds make Teresa uneasy. The air is thick with humidity and a niggling sense of wrongness. She pushes her hair off her neck and tosses her cloak in the back of the speeder. 

They split up, flitting in and out of shops to make discrete purchases, George reluctantly swapping his outlandish floral pants for a more non-descript pair. Every one of Teresa's nerves is on edge. Rounding a corner, arms piled high with parcels, she runs headlong into the gleaming white armour of a stormtrooper. 

Teresa hastily stammers out an apology and is chasing after a runaway package when a plastoid-encased hand closes around her arm. "I'm going to need to see some identification."

Her stomach drops as she pictures her newly forged papers folded up in the pocket of her cloak. She's groping for an excuse when she suddenly feels an achingly familiar presence, and his voice cuts through her panic.

"Honey, there you are! I told you to wait for me in the market square."

He's inexplicably there, his hair a little longer and his beard a little thicker than when she last saw him, but it's unmistakably _James_. He looks good, in that slightly dishevelled way of his that looks natural but she knows is carefully cultivated. He removes his sunglasses and hooks them onto his jacket, and as her brain struggles to process what's happening, he's suddenly handing the trooper a sheaf of papers. Their eyes meet. She can feel waves of reassurance washing over her. 

"I told her a hundred times, a thousand times even, don't leave the house without your papers! But she's so forgetful." His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. "Women, am I right?"

It's that smile - the smile he conjures up when he's scamming people out of their money or lying through his teeth. It normally irritates her, but at this moment she's not complaining. The trooper scans the documents and hands them back to James with a curt not. "These seem to be in order. But you should keep a closer eye on your wife from now on, Mr. Hernandez."

The smile is back out in full force, industrial-strength wattage. "Of course. I do apologize for the trouble. Come on, sweetie."

He drapes an arm around Teresa's shoulder and guides her behind a stall selling fried squid. As soon as they're out of sight, she shakes his arm off and pulls the blaster from the waistband of her pants, pointing it straight at his heart. 

"What are you doing here?"

He raises his hands and the mask falls away to reveal a level of vulnerability she’s never seen before. She feels him tapping at her shields, and she drops them enough to receive the incoming flood of thoughts and feelings.

_He's been chasing her across the vast expanse of space, watching her through the green-tinged scope of his sniper rifle. His fingers heavy with the knowledge that he can't. That he won't. Dread snaking into his gut at the thought of what that means. And now that they're here, face to face, hope that she’ll still accept him, even with all his flaws and the things he’s done. That he’s not too late._

She sees herself as he sees her - harder than he remembers, distilled into her true essence. Finely honed, all lithe muscles and black leather, her expression unreadable. So beautiful. 

His painful hope and regret make her heart ache.

She lowers her weapon, and he relaxes slightly. 

"I just want to talk."

"You want to talk? Then talk."

"Yes, Camila sent me to bring you back, and I could have done so more than once now. But that's not what I want. That's not why I'm here."

"Then why are you here? And why do you have papers for me?"

He takes a deep breath and sets his shoulders, as if steeling himself for battle. "The day you left, you asked me to come with you. And I didn't. But I’m here now, and I'm asking you to give me another chance."

He spreads his arms as if in surrender. 

"Wherever you're going, whatever you're doing, I want to be a part of it. And I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you."

She can feel his pulse racing, the bead of sweat trickling down his neck. His nervous energy. They lock eyes for an impossibly long moment. 

"What about Camila?"

"I'll deal with that when the time comes."

Teresa lets out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. His sincerity penetrates to her very core, and his presence fills that empty space that she’s been carrying around ever since she left. 

Giving him a crooked half-smile, she tucks her blaster back under her jacket. "Fine. We could use another man on this mission. But you take orders from me."

James lets out a breath of his own. He nods in agreement and extends an arm. "After you."

She breezes pat him, chin held high, the scent of lily of the valley lingering behind her.

 

*****

 

George warms up to their new addition easily enough, but P-0TE is not so easily won over - the droid never strays far from Teresa's side, making a big show of cleaning his stash of weapons. And as much as those robotic features never change, Teresa can still feel the hostility in his clipped speech and scathing commentary. But James plays it cool, content to stay in the background as they prepare to launch. 

Having deciphered the coordinates from the book, they set a course for the Endor system, and things are going surprisingly smoothly until their radar picks up a ship closing in. George swears under his breath as the ship creaks and groans and spews out more foul-smelling smoke. "Damnation, it's a goddamn Imperial cruiser."

Teresa squints at the shape looming on the horizon. "But we've got nothing to hide, right?"

"Imperial forces don't need an excuse to hassle honest folk." George scratches his beard, laughing nervously. "Or not-so-honest folk. And did I mention the shipment of chak-root that I have stashed in the hold?"

"What??" 

"Relax, princess. It's hid where no Imperial son-of-a-bitch can sniff it out. But you and your boy toy there better make yourselves scarce after what happened on our little shoppin' adventure. Follow me now." 

Heaving himself out of his chair, George grabs a toolbox from the storage compartment and pries open a panel in the wall, revealing a hidden compartment that definitely does not look big enough for both of them and George’s stash of illegal goods. Teresa feels a blush creeping up her neck.

"What are y'all waiting for? Andale, andale! The Empire waits for no man. Or woman, beggin’ your pardon, m’lady." 

James folds himself into the opening, crowding as far back against the wall as he can to leave room for Teresa. She crouches at the threshold, uncertain, finally taking his hand and allowing herself to be pulled down into the cradle of his legs.

The last thing she sees as the panel slides back into place is George's anxious face, and then there's nothing but darkness, silence, and James, warm and solid against her back. 

She hears his breath catch in his throat as she settles back into him, and their minds slowly open to each other. She can feel her hair tickling his chin and how he wants nothing more than to bury his face in her curls. Pull her so close that there is no space left between them and bridge the gap that has been widened by choices made, separation, and things unspoken. She feels a sharp stab of _want._

In the cramped confines of their hiding place, she allows her hands to trail down his arms and intertwines her fingers with his. Her head tilts back onto his shoulder and he presses his cheek into her neck. They both shiver at the roughness of his beard against her skin. 

_I missed you._

Teresa's not even sure whether it's her own thought or his, or whether she’s imagined it altogether, but it settles between them like a warm light. She squeezes his hand, he tightens his arms around her, and in that moment, everything is alright.

 

*****

 

Soon George is sliding back the panel again, and they blink at him owlishly in the harsh light that comes flooding into their hiding spot. 

"Well don't you two look as snug as bugs," he says with a smirk. Teresa ignores him as she clambers out, still reeling from the intimacy of it all.

"Is everything ok?"

"Right as rain, baby doll. Our Imperial friends ain't smart enough to get the drop on the likes of me. But I think we should make a little detour in case they come sniffin' after us again. Lucky for us, I know a guy."

"What guy?"

"A friend of mine. Javier Jimenez is his name. One of the best shots in this here quadrant of space. He and his cousin Boaz have a vacation home on a moon not too far from here."

The moon is ethereally beautiful with an atmosphere of pastel-colored clouds and sleek glass and chrome buildings. Their host, Javier, is a charming and handsome man who welcomes them into his home and bows gallantly over Teresa's hand. 

"Now what is a beautiful lady like you doing with a disreputable rogue like this one?" He winks at George over her shoulder. 

"You're hilarious. Speaking of disreputable, where's Boaz? Last I heard he was on a mission to hit up every brothel on every planet from here to the other side of the galaxy."

Javier shrugs lazily. "He's found religion, actually. Spends all his time meditating and talking about the mysteries of the universe. It's pretty boring, to be honest. I'm sure he's around somewhere, but let's eat! I want to hear all about your adventures." 

While the men eat and drink heartily, swapping war stories, Teresa quietly slips outside, needing a break from all the noise. She feels James's questioning presence tickling her mind as she meanders down the path and sends a trickle of reassurance back. Some time alone is what she needs right now. 

So she wanders into the woods behind the property, following the sound of running water. Stepping out from the shadow of the trees, she takes in a waterfall of breathtaking beauty. The mist washes over her cheeks. She breathes in the earthy scent of the forest, and her body feels energized, her vision sharply focused. 

She's delighted to discover a cave behind the curtain of water and gasps when she sees that the walls are studded with glowing crystals. The cave is awash with colorful patterns and bursts of light, and she reaches out compulsively to touch one as it seems to pulse with life. 

"Welcome, little sister."

Teresa nearly jumps out of her skin as the figure of a man materializes out of the shadows. He's dressed all in black with ropes of crystals glimmering around his neck. 

"Who are you?" 

"Who am I?" the man laughs, a little off-kilter, eyes unfocused. As he moves closer, Teresa can smell alcohol on his breath. "I am everyone and I am no one. You, though, you are on your way to a great destiny. But there are many dangers along the way. "

He squints at her through bloodshot eyes. "You feel it, don't you."

"Feel what?" 

"The Force." 

He fumbles with one of the cords looped around his neck, pulling it off and handing it to her. A small tear-shaped crystal dangles from a silver chain, and it seems to come alive in her palm, pulsating with a strange warmth that floods through her veins like fire. She gasps.

"The Force?"

“It’s the energy of the universe that binds us all together. Some of us sense it more strongly than others. Some can use it for good or evil.” 

She gropes for words. "Is that why I…feel things? See things sometimes?"

"Yes, and these feelings will only grow stronger as you come into your power. You will feel the pain of others. Their sorrow, joy, wonder, everything in between. It may drive you mad." He lets out a brittle bark of laughter, and Teresa wonders what pain he’s felt that’s driven him to this. “But until then, may the Force protect you in all you do."

And with that proclamation, the man seems to crumple in on himself, sliding down the wall into a boneless heap. Teresa Is momentarily alarmed until he starts to snore. She feels a surge of pity for the sleeping figure. Slipping the stone pendant around her neck, she makes her way out of the cave, leaving with more questions than ever before. 

Once outside, she bumps into James, who makes a big show of pretending he wasn't looking for her.

"You shouldn't wander off."

She scowls half-heartedly at him as they walk back to the house together. The kitchen is quiet, the watery light from the hallway bathing the walls in an eerie glow. James' gaze flicks down to her newly acquired necklace, and she touches it self-consciously.

"Where did you get that?"

It seems silly, recounting the strange tale of the man in the cave, but James seems to relax slightly, a small smile quirking at the corner of his mouth.

"That must have been Boaz. Apparently he fancies himself somewhat of a prophet now."

Teresa feels the crystal humming against her skin, but she says nothing.

James steps closer in the dim light of the kitchen.

"Teresa…"

They haven't been alone since they were crammed together in George's smuggling compartment, and the silence hangs heavily between them. Heavy with possibility, that intangible _what if_ that had always been stifled by the specter of Camila hanging over their heads, the weight of their world bearing down on them. But here, in this place that feels almost suspended in time, with no sound but the hissing of the coffee pot and the wind sweeping through the trees, it's easy to give in. 

She looks at him, leaning against the counter with his worn black t-shirt, day-old stubble and those ridiculous tattoos snaking up from his collar. And she wants him. Wants to know that she's not alone in this mission, that there's something waiting for her on the other side.

_You've only ever needed yourself_ , whispers the Queen in the back of her mind. _Love only leads to pain._

But she's not sure she cares anymore. She tentatively opens a channel between them and her senses are suddenly flooded with something so heady, so overpowering, that she can barely breathe. 

She's not quite sure who moves first, but suddenly they are pressed together, hands everywhere, devouring each other. He walks her backwards until she's flush against the counter and she immediately wraps her legs around his waist, hands scrabbling at his back and fisting in his hair as he grabs her and hoists her up higher. Her skin is on fire and want is thrumming through her veins, and she's drunk off the taste of him after waiting so long. Their shared desire pools between them like a blazing inferno until suddenly -

Someone clears their throat, and she pushes away abruptly, sliding off the counter. It's George, looking rumpled and far too amused, wearing nothing but a bright magenta dressing gown.

"Pardon me for interruptin' folks," he says with a sly wink. He rummages in the fridge for moment and then disappears back upstairs with a bottle of something and a smug expression. 

James clears his throat awkwardly. Her blood still fizzing with desire, Teresa wants nothing more than to pick up where they left off, but it's probably best that they don't. Not right now. Not when there’s so much hanging in the balance.

"I'm going to head to bed," she says, straightening her shirt and giving him a rueful smile. "We've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow. Goodnight, James."

And as she drifts off to sleep, she can't help but feel a trickle of excitement that this intangible _what if_ might have a chance of solidifying into something real after all. 

 

*****

 

When they touch down on the moon of Endor, they step off the ship into a world where the plants glow with an otherworldly fluorescence and the trees stretch their limbs up to the stars. There's something ancient, primordial even, and the forest seems alive with the promise of something. Teresa can feel it keenly. An echo of something old and powerful. 

James squints up at the tree line, shielding his eyes from the sun with a hand. "So what happens when we find El Santo? We just knock on his front door?" 

"That creepy crawler probably has all manner of crazy shit up his sleeve." George swings down from the ramp, arms laden down with a giant case. "Which is why we're bringin' the big boy." He snaps open the case to reveal the biggest bazooka Teresa has ever seen.

Teresa shuts the case with her foot and eyes George sternly. "No. No guns. And certainly not guns that big. We're coming as friends, and we don't want to spook him. You stay here with P-0TE and guard the ship. James and I will go find El Santo."

If droids could look alarmed, P-0TE would be blowing steam out of his ears. "I don't think that's a good idea, Teresa. The odds of him betraying you are-"

"No arguing!" snaps Teresa, and she can sense James' gratitude for the interruption. George slings an arm around P-0TE's metallic shoulder.

"Don’t worry, baby doll. Me and the droid, we'll hold down the fort. You watch yourself now."

 

*****

 

After some initial scouting, they discover symbols carved into the trunks of certain trees and decide to follow them like a path. As they head deeper into the forest, the air seems to come alive with insect song and hangs heavy with moisture. Suddenly James holds up a hand, and she stills instantly. 

"Something's out there."

Something prickles on the back of her neck, and she can hear a faint rustling noise coming from the underbrush. She moves instinctively closer to James as he steps protectively into her space.

In the blink of an eye, the trees erupt with small furry bodies, and the air is filled with a high-pitched keening noise. Spears flash in the sun, and dark beady eyes glare balefully at them. Surrounded, they are herded onwards down the path, escorted by a small army of these deceptively cuddly-looking creatures wearing rough-hewn garments and wielding razor-sharp blades. Teresa and glances at James and he simply shrugs, one of the critters clamped onto his leg like a leech. 

The creatures lead them deeper and deeper into the woods, and they attract more and more followers until their party resembles a furry ocean, sweeping them along to their final destination. Which turns out to be the ruins of an old temple. The crumbling structure was no doubt once beautiful, but the forest has since taken it over with vines snaking through every crevice and plants growing from the strangest places. 

A man is draped casually over a throne-like chair carved from stone. He's wearing a necklace made out of what look like teeth (whether animal or human, it's hard to say), and his eyes have a somewhat manic gleam to them. As the ewoks prostrate themselves on the ground at his feet, Teresa is in no doubt that they have found El Santo.

El Santo beckons them forward and steeples his fingers under his chin, his reptilian eyes somewhat unfocused. 

“Come forward, my children.”

The ewoks scuttle away to open a path forward, and Teresa sets her chin. She’s come this far, so she’s not turning back now. 

“My name is-“

“I know who you are…Teresa Mendoza.”

Teresa starts. His eyes clear and focus in on her. “You want what is mine.”

“I want to make a deal.”

“You want to make a deal." His voice is laced with cruel mimicry. "Many have come in search of me. Wanting to make a deal. And few have found what they seek. Is your heart pure, Teresa Mendoza? Are you worthy of the honour of becoming one of my chosen?” 

“I’ll do whatever it takes.” 

El Santo chuckles, a dry crackle like leaves underfoot. “We shall see.” 

A lazy flick of the wrist and an ewok comes forward, bearing a goblet brimming with a viscous liquid of a deep red colour. She hopes fervently that it's not blood. The ewoks start humming an eerie chant.

"Drink. Drink and prove yourself pure of heart."

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees James, tense, fingers clenching and unclenching at this sides, mouth parted as if to protest. She shakes her head minutely and then focuses her attention back on the task at hand. _Just breathe._

The Queen appears behind El Santo's throne, one arm draped casually across the back. She raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow as if to say _what are you waiting for?_ Teresa drinks. There's a rushing in her ears, and then everything fades to black. 

She awakes to the sense of falling, the air being pulled from her lungs until she suddenly stops, floating in front of a gleaming mirror. She sees her own reflection, face pale, her body glowing with a shimmering silver light. A light which is slowly receding as an ugly red colour starts seeping from her fingertips, down her arms and towards her heart. Wrapping around her fading core like a vise. Panic bubbles up inside her, which only makes whatever it is spread faster, and she can feel the strength draining from her body. Her sense of self diminishing as the light fades.

Through a haze of pain and confusion, she sees a muted glow flickering at her breast. Her crystal pendant. She focuses on the light with a last burst of clarity and draws strength from the warmth pulsing there, struggling to push the darkness back.

Boaz's words come echoing back to her. _May the Force protect you in all that you do._

Focusing all her dwindling energy on the light, she draws on reserves of power she didn't know she possessed, pouring her very essence into keeping that flame alive. She thinks of everything she's been through, everything she's ever fought for, of James, of the life that's waiting for her, and it grows steadily, with energy fueled by sheer force of will, until the red stain is purged from her mind. 

When she wakes up this time, it's with a gasp on the floor of the temple, furry faces crowding around her. Every inch of skin feels blistered and hypersensitive. As she turns over and vomits, James is suddenly by her side. His hands are cool at her neck, cupping her face. She covers one of his hands with her own and feels the emotion radiating from him in waves - worry and relief and that _something more_ , something so powerful that it momentarily steals her breath. 

Her palm is bleeding from where she’s been clutching her pendant. Looking up at the sky, she sends a silent _thank you_ out to the universe. She still doesn’t quite understand what it all means, but at the moment she’s just completely and utterly grateful that she’ll still have the chance to find out.

El Santo looms over them, clapping slowly. "Well done, my daughter. You have passed the test that few survive."

Teresa struggles to a sitting position. "That liquid in the chalice…"

"A rare hallucinogen native to this planet. It will drag you down into a permanent state of madness unless you have the power inside you to stop the poison from spreading to your mind. I cannot have those whose minds are easily corrupted among my family.”

He extends a hand to her and she takes it. 

"Now let's, as you say, 'make a deal.'"

 

*****

 

They make a strange convoy back through the woods, their newly acquired product borne on litters carried by a procession of their new friends. Despite their success, Teresa feels a creeping unease. A cloud drifts across the sun, a sudden chill ripples through the air, and then Teresa is instinctively ducking and rolling as blaster fire lights up the tree line.

She crouches with James in the scrub, frantically scanning the scene before them. The sunlight bounces off tell-tale white armour.

"Stormtroopers!" James ducks as a blast of light reduces the tree behind them to a shower of splinters. "How did they find us?"

"Why were they even _looking_ for us?" 

The ewoks have started fighting bravely with their spears and rocks axes, shrieking their war cries to the sky, but they are vastly outgunned by the onslaught of troopers. 

"We have to help them!" Teresa shouts over the din. 

James nods and leads the way out into the fray. Moving as a seamless unit, they unleash a furious assault on their opponents, reducing trooper after trooper to a smoldering heap of melted plastic. Their reflexes are sharpened by their shared bond, and the way their minds mesh together gives her a thrill despite the danger. 

But in the end, there are simply too many. They are finally forced to shelter behind some rocks as a handful of troopers pass dangerously close to their position, chasing after some retreating ewoks.

"Hey! Nevermind the creatures. Find the girl! Those are our orders. Or do you want to be on the wrong side of Camila Vargas?"

James curses forcefully under his breath. "Dammit, how could I be so stupid. She has dozens of Imperials on her payroll, and they must have managed to track us somehow. Or track me at least. I guess it was only a matter of time before she caught up to us."

Teresa shakes her head. "It doesn't matter now. We have to get back to the ship. It's our only chance."

As they stare at each other, Teresa is transported back to that day in the alleyway, and she can tell James is remembering it, too. She reaches out and cups his cheek, softly pressing her lips to his. His fingers snake around the back of her neck, pulling her forward almost into his lap as he deepens the kiss. It's frantic and dirty and raw, too much and yet not nearly enough. When they finally break apart, it resonates in the very core of her being, that feeling which she has thus far refused to name. 

He opens his mouth as if to speak it, but she places a finger gently over his lips. _Me too_ , she sends back. 

"Let's do this."

"Together."

"Together."

And they're off running, dodging bursts of fire and falling branches. Her hair whips around her face, and flying twigs scratch her cheeks. Head down and chest heaving, she keeps going until a she's finally hit, a searing pain spreading down her arm as she cries out and falls. She smells burning flesh. As if from a great distance, she hears James calling her name, and then he's suddenly there beside her, on top of her, shielding her body with his own. _This is it_ , she thinks. _This is how we die._

Until the forest floor shakes with an almighty thunder and a massive explosion rips through the air.

"Yeeeeehaaaw!"

Half-blinded with smoke and pain, she looks up to see George hanging out of their ship with his enormous gun, raining down fiery hell on the troopers below until there are none left standing. George lets out another whoop and leaps down from the ship as it settles to earth.

"Hola principesa! What was that you were saying about leaving the guns at home?"

 

*****

 

It's only once they’re back in space, product safely stored away, that Teresa is able to breathe. The bacta patch on her arm is doing its work, and P-0TE is relentless in his offer of homemade soup from the ship’s galley.

"I am programmed to make over 367 different varieties of highly nutritious and appetizing meals, you know." 

She finally relents and he lumbers off to the galley looking supremely satisfied with himself. James sinks down onto the bench next to her and takes her hand in his. 

"We've got our product, and Camila's been put off for now, anyways. So what’s next?" 

Teresa looks out the window at the star-speckled sky and feels alive with all the possibilities. 

"Now we find somewhere to set up a base of operations. Somewhere remote where people don't ask questions." 

He links their fingers more tightly together. 

"I may know of an abandoned star base in a lonely little quadrant of space. The planet is mostly uninhabited and the locals are used to turning a blind eye." 

"That sounds perfect."

Teresa leans her head on his shoulder and basks in the aura of contentment that engulfs them. The road ahead isn't going to be easy, but at least she won't be traveling it alone. 

The Queen suddenly appears and shoots Teresa an approving look. 

"Dream big, Teresa. The adventure is only just beginning."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come flail with me on tumblr at [northcountry39](http://northcountry39.tumblr.com)


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